Alright
by drizzlyNovemberInMySoul
Summary: AU. Det. Rizzoli's team is searching for a kidnapped boy. They find a woman instead.
1. The House

**A/N:** There once was a fanfiction author who got inspired by another fanfiction author and came up with a story because of that. The first one's called performativezippers with her (unfortunately yet unfinished) story 'Attachment', the second one colormetheworld and 'Bound'. Both are brilliant. I had to come up with my own.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: The House**

* * *

The house was decrepit.

It had been painted twice, first in green, then white. Both coats were chipped now, revealing the naked wood here and there, which had become gray over the years.

The windows were nailed shut. The person who had handled the nail-gun hadn't even cared enough to push the curtains out of the way. Now parts of the fabric were forever banned to the outside. The sun had drained those scraps of fabric of their color; only the part that was still on the inside, still fulfilling its purpose as a curtain, spoke of the orange and little white flowers which once had spread all over the cloth.

They came with the element of surprise and didn't try to make a noiseless entrance. They stormed through the back door right into the kitchen, the lead detective taking cover behind two fully equipped members of the SWAT team, one of whom had shattered the wooden door and its frame with a ram seconds prior to their invasion.

A foul odor hung in the air as they rushed through the small single-story living space, shouting "Clear!" whenever they met the corner of a room without encountering anyone.

With a nod the detective commanded the team towards the basement door. They paused for a second, before smashing it just like the one before, and descended the narrow staircase shouting "Police! Hands up! No one moves!"

The basement was lit by a single naked bulb, bathing everything in strangely out of place warm and yellow colors. The detective moved, gun out, around the two men who wordlessly held their positions at the foot of the stairs, weapons drawn as well and pointed at something on the ground.

It was a woman. She was cowering in front of a shabby army cot, her back to them, shoulders raised tensely and both hands placed on the mattress in front of her.

It was not what the detective had expected to find. The team had set out to arrest Logan Milford, a real estate agent, which was an ironic profession as the detective considered the place he called home. Two months ago he had kidnapped a little boy out of a house he had sold when the now two-year-old had not even been born, yet.

It took them long to figure it out. Almost too long to keep up hope. After the first week of William Johansson's disappearance most of the team had been discouraged profoundly; not the detective, though. A planned kidnapping of a toddler out of his bedroom without a ransom note simply didn't feel like murder had been the motivation for the act. However, standing in that basement she was still only praying she'd be right.

A woman hadn't been in the picture. Yet, she was the only person to be found on the property they had been able to trace back to Milford.

"Hands behind your head!" The detective barked once more, adrenaline coursing through every fiber of her body. The woman on the floor flinched, but obeyed the command and quickly intertwined her fingers at the back of her skull. She also bent towards the cot slightly and rested her elbows on top of the mattress.

"Get up and slowly turn around!"

The woman flinched again, then hectically shook her head, begging desperately, "Please, you can do as you like, but _please_ let me stay..." She suddenly moved a hand away from her head to the hem of her shirt, but the detective immediately shouted "Hand back up!" which made her flinch once more as she pushed her hunched form even closer to the bed-frame, her hand back on its assigned position.

The detective took a few steps to the side then, trying to get a better look at the stranger. The shirt had slid up a little where the woman had touched it moments ago, revealing pale skin and red marks. Everything about the scene felt off. The woman's head was buried in between her arms, greasy long strands of matted hair splayed over her trembling shoulders. Just when the detective thought there was nothing else to learn from her new angle, she noticed movement on the woman's lap and under the bed.

"Is that William?" she asked, even though she already knew. The other woman, however, oddly enough started shaking her head again and also moved her hand back to whatever task it had on her shirt. She winced, probably in anticipation of the protest she thought would follow.

It did not come. The detective bit her tongue, bit down the standard commands she was supposed to shout in this kind of situation. The woman succeeded to lift her shirt this time, the angry red streaks turning out to be whipping marks. In some places the skin had broken, some of the wounds were already healing, some so fresh that raising the shirt had smeared some of the blood seeping out of them.

"Do as you please", the woman startled the detective out of her thoughts at the captivating sight. "But only to me."

At that the tall detective dropped to her knees, keeping an arm's length distance to the woman who was crouching over the little one they had spent so much time trying to find.

"We're the police", she said. "We're here for William. No-one's going to hurt you."

The woman didn't move.

"Can you hand him over to me?" The detective tried further and noticed an immediate change as the shoulders of the foreigner started shaking again. She had moved her hands to the small head that seemed to be resting in her lap. The detective still didn't tell her to put them back against her head. She looked over at the SWAT members, who were still pointing their gun's at the battered woman's back.

"This won't be rushed", the task force leader explained to them. "Go back outside and report to Cavanaugh. Wait for me there." They didn't even nod before turning and leaving the chamber in the basement.

The detective inspected the woman they found more thoroughly now. She was clad in black slacks and a black shirt, which still only covered half of her injured back, making the observer wonder how many more bruises and wounds were hidden underneath the fabric. She was very skinny, obviously undernourished. Her whole appearance was emaciated and filthy.

She waited for a long time. Best case scenario, the woman would relax a little in her presence. After fifteen minutes of silence, however, she decided to open the conversation.

"I'm Detective Rizzoli", she introduced herself and after a beat she added, "Jane. My name's Jane. What's yours?" She felt overwhelmed by a sense of guilt that no-one had even been looking for this woman. Not that she knew of, anyway.

When the woman didn't answer, she asked, "Would you look at me?"

"There is no use." Her voice was small, but steady. "I cannot see you properly."

"Why's that?"

"My pupils are dilated."

"Okay." Jane Rizzoli was at an unaccustomed loss of words. She decided to keep the woman talking, even if the conversation felt odd. "Why are your pupils dilated?"

"Because of the Cyclogyl drops he gives me."

"Who? Logan Milford?"

"I don't know", the woman sighed, almost sounding a little frustrated.

"You don't know what?" Detective Rizzoli had to be careful not to grow frustrated herself. The woman they found had been beaten and kept in a basement, only god knew how long. She had no right to rush the process, that had been her initial feeling. Still, the conversation didn't seem to go anywhere and there was still the little boy she so desperately wanted to check on.

"I don't know his name." At least the woman seemed lucid and willing enough to answer the questions.

"It was a man, though, who kept you here?" This only got her a nod.

"Would you move back from the bed and let me look at you, please?" She tried again. Like before, the woman tensed visibly, but also slowly shuffled away from the cot the way she had been asked to. For the first time the detective was able to see the other woman's face. They were about the same age, somewhere in the beginning of her thirties, as far as Jane Rizzoli could tell. The lady was squinting, probably because of the light sensitivity due to the eye drops she had talked about, but otherwise her face showed no signs of bruises or injuries. At least there she hadn't been hit lately.

As the woman pushed herself away from the cot she reached under the boy's shoulders and pulled him up with her. He yelped when he came out from under the bed, but only once before he dug his face into her neck and slung his short arms around her meager torso in a vise-like grip.

"Is he okay?" the detective asked, instinctively reaching out, but never touching them.

"He hasn't sustained any injuries. I am not fully qualified to draw a conclusion concerning his mental and emotional state." The woman was tentatively stroking the little boy's back. Detective Rizzoli frowned.

"You have medical training?" She got merely a nod this time. Why did all the personal questions seem so hard to answer for that woman?

"I would really like to get you both to a hospital", she proposed, trying to get somewhere. The child's parents had the right to get him back as quickly as possible. The last two months had been torturous for them. That was the reason why she didn't ask the woman, if she felt up to it. In the end, it wasn't her place to decide, but the police's responsibility to get her medical attention as well as her statement. They needed it. Logan Milford was still out there somewhere.

"He hates loud noises", the woman stated and Detective Rizzoli took it as a general sign of complying.

"I don't want to unnecessarily scare him either", she replied and saw a hint of gratefulness flash over the woman's face. "Would you wait here a sec and let me get something from my car?"

Obviously that kind of request was too much to handle for the woman, as she gazed back at the detective with a mixture of confusion and fear. Jane Rizzoli wasn't sure she would be able to decipher all the layers of conflict that woman found herself in, or to help her with it at all.

She would definitely try, though. It had never been her approach to handle only one part of a crime. She had always fully engaged in the task, had sought the contact to the people who were connected to the victim, and ultimately that was what made her a successful and greatly appreciated member of the force.

She met the woman's gaze and tried to reassure her. "Trust me. I'll be back in two. You are safe now."

She stood up, intent on not making any sudden or jerky movements, and quietly ascended the stairs. Before she opened the door she looked back at the woman. She hadn't moved an inch, her back to the staircase. Underneath her long honey blond hair the tiny arms and hands could be seen of the boy she held close.

No-one knew what had happened down in that basement, yet. No-one could tell what kind of experiences those two had shared, _had to share_ , what had forced the bond they obviously formed. The detective didn't want to call someone over her radio in order to get the item she required. On one hand, it didn't feel right to confront the woman and the little boy with more people again right now. On the other hand, she wanted to check how the situation outside had developed since she had been left by the SWAT team.

As detective Rizzoli stepped into the cold night's air, she felt as if coming out of a hazy dream, or another dimension that had been locked away in this old house of foul smells and horrors. It was a clear night, her eyes were drawn to the sky by a desire for closure she inexplicably searched in the stars. She couldn't make out a single one, though, the red and blue flashing lights from the patrol cars too invasive.

"Detective Rizzoli! What's the news on the kidnapped toddler?" A news reporter shouted at her from behind the tape. While she had been down there the area around the house had been turned into a crime scene. And the scene of crimes was what this place really was, she contemplated, even though they could call themselves fortunate for discovering those people alive. She made out lieutenant Sean Cavanaugh, her boss, at the far end of the back yard, talking to two distressed people who, on second inspection, she recognized as William's parents.

"Are they coming out?" Her partner Barry Frost, a merely half-baked detective, had come up to her unnoticed.

"Not yet", she hissed, annoyed and not stopping on her way to her car. To his credit Frost already knew her well enough to not take her mood personally. "Who the fuck called the parents?" she asked as she ducked under the police tape that marked the beginning of the street.

Frost gaped at her. "They're his parents."

"His identity hasn't even been confirmed, Frost", she spat. "Do you know what it will do to them if it's not him!?"

"You think it's not him? The SWAT team said you found him!"

At that she stopped and rubbed her forehead in frustration. She needed to get back. She had promised to be quick.

"It's him, alright!? But all that matters right now is that there are two people in distress down there. I'm not sure either one of them is ready for the outside. For people wanting _anything_ from them, and if it's only a damn hug."

She pulled open the door on the passenger's side and opened the glove department where she produced the headphones she usually put on at the shooting range.

Ignoring Frost's baffled stare she asked him, "Would you do something for me?"

"Anything", he replied in an instant, straightening himself.

She knew she could count on him. "Back up my car all the way to the back door over there", she explained as she handed him the keys. "Tell Cavanaugh I will take the woman and the boy to the hospital and they should meet us there."

"I'm not sure he'll like that, Jane."

"You didn't see them", the detective whispered. "They're not ready to be separated." With that she started jogging into the direction of the house again, just when her boss seemed to have spotted her. She disappeared into the dark kitchen as a barked "Rizzoli!" and the engine of her car resounded through the yard.

She once more went down the stairs to a room she had already come to dread. To her surprise the still unknown woman was standing now, holding the child the same way as before against her chest, and facing the entrance to the place that had served as her cage. She was still squinting against the dim light.

"It's true", the woman remarked, confusion still crossing her features.

"Yes, it is", the detective replied as she came to stand in front of the two. She knew why the woman had said that and tried to convey all the seriousness she was capable of, as she held out the headphones for the lady to take. "I'm getting you out of here."

The woman nodded briskly and carefully took the item from the taller woman, trying not to brush her fingers. She then turned around to the cot.

"William, dear, I have to put you down for a moment, alright?" Her voice had completely changed. All the unsureness from before was gone. In an even pace she shifted her weight from one leg to the other and back, gently rocking the small child and giving him all the time to make up his mind.

"Alright", he mumbled after a while to the detective's surprise and let himself be lowered to the mattress without any protest. He was simply eying the woman he was not accustomed to, equally curious and suspicious.

The other woman sat down next to him, quietly hissing at the movement that seemed to be painful, and took his hand, which made him immediately raise his beautiful brown eyes to hers.

"This lady is with the police", the woman explained, barely motioning into detective Rizzoli's direction. "She will take us to a hospital. There will be people who want to see if we are alright."

"What 'bout him?" the boy inquired.

"He will not be there." The certainty with which she said it, made Jane hope that the obviously hurt woman had not been damaged too severely by the monster they still had to catch.

"Alright", the boy said again and the detective felt deep respect for the trust they had built with each other.

"Detective Rizzoli gave me these for you", the lady continued and Jane was slightly astonished to hear her title and last name out of that woman's mouth. A woman, who seemed so very collected all of the sudden, but only minutes ago had showed no sign whether the information Jane had provided had actually reached her.

"When you wear them, everything will be less scary. And you can hold onto me at all times."

The little one nodded in a comprehensible manner.

"Remember our safe word?"

"Yes", he replied instantly, lisping slightly. The lady then picked up the headphones and gently placed them over his ears. It was barely visible, but they smiled at each other. That woman had done a remarkable job, the detective realized. She had kept a safe place for that child within a most hostile environment. She watched as the woman picked up the boy again and he laid his head against her collarbone, eyes back on the detective.

"Ready?" Jane asked. The woman didn't nod. "It's gonna be alright", the detective encouraged, using the same word the lady had used with the boy. "I got my car parked one step out of the house. All you need to do is slip in the back seat." She then turned and waited until the woman came to stand behind her, before she put her foot on the first step.

As they reached the door to the basement, she explained, "There will be emergency vehicle lighting coming in through the windows when we step into the kitchen."

"May I...", the woman started, but the tension and insecurity were back and obviously prohibited her from voicing her request. Jane looked over her shoulder.

"Anything you want, okay?", she told her in a hoarse voice that she hoped to be perceived as soft. Not a term her colleagues would ever dare to describe her with.

"May I hold on to your back, so I can shield my eyes and still find the way?"

"'Course", she said. Under different circumstances she would have made a joke about the formal way the woman enunciated herself. "Just ignore everything that's going on. Keep focused on getting you and William in the car, alright?" This time the woman nodded.

And then she opened the door.

Even from inside the kitchen she could see that the amount of press had tripled since she'd been outside. The lights and noises would yield stress to anyone, not only the poor people who had been locked away for months. As soon as she pushed open the door to the backyard, William's parents, the Johanssons, rushed towards them, the mother screaming hysterically as Frost and Cavanaugh quickly moved to stop their approach. Jane was grateful for the trust her boss and team mates showed in that instant. They let her make the call on how the situation should be handled.

The woman behind her suddenly gasped and painfully dug her nails into the detective's shoulder, just before she sagged against her. Jane was fast enough to catch her around the waist, and even though the woman shrieked in shock and pain, she dragged her along, pulled open the back door of her car and ungracefully maneuvered her and the child she held inside. She didn't bother to look up at the crowd in front of the house, just slid behind the wheel and drove away from the crime scene as quickly as possible.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay. This had to get out of my head, but now there seriously is nothing left in there. Not for that story anyway. For now. So, to be fair, this'll be a one shot.


	2. The Hospital

**A/N:** Okay. Now this happened.

* * *

Chapter 2: The Hospital

* * *

Jane peered into the rear mirror. The woman on her backseat was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Shit!" she cursed and abruptly turned the car into the next empty driveway. Blue and red lights were still illuminating the space around them. She couldn't even count the police cars escorting them.

Right on cue, her partner's voice crackled over the radio. "Everything alright, Jane?"

She pushed the reply button hectically as she noticed the other woman jump at the sound, and hissed into the mic: "Just give us some minutes!"

She then turned fully and held both of her hands in the air, trying to display that she was no threat. William had buried his face into the seat next to the unknown woman's shoulder, who was sitting sideways, probably due to her wounded back. His headphones still in place, the boy had grasped the lady's upper arms, his tiny knuckles visibly white, even in the dim light.

"Hey!" Jane said more forcefully, trying to snap the other woman out of the state she was becoming more and more entangled in by the second. "You need to get it together for him!"

To her surprise it was anger that flashed over the woman's eyes. She was glad it did. It was an emotion she could perfectly relate to.

"You're safe", she reminded the woman. "You can say whatever is on your mind."

"It's _all_ I did!" She gulped in air that didn't seem to reach her lungs. Jane got it.

"I know. And you did a terrific job at keeping it together for him." Immediately the other woman's features softened a bit.

"It's my fault", the woman suddenly sobbed, and for the first time Jane feared that she might have made a mistake.

"What are you talking about?" Her question had a dangerous growl to it she couldn't contain. If that woman had, in fact, any part in William's kidnapping she might never forgive herself.

"The man... He", the woman sobbed harder and the little boy flinched in her arms. "He- he-" She didn't seem to be able to get past that. In the end, to get past her kidnapper would be too much to ask at this point. Jane had seen only a fracture of what he'd done to her. Whatever that woman had done herself, or whatever she _thought_ she had done, it wasn't for Jane to judge her. Not now.

Instead, she carefully climbed into the back seat. "Look at me."

The woman obeyed, her whole upper body shaking with the effort of taking a decent breath.

"There will be a time to work through this, alright? But that time is not now. You really need to calm down."

The woman nodded in agreement, but she didn't seem capable of controlling the sobs that were working their way up through her throat, making her breath hitch in a way that sounded as if it was painful.

"Hey", Jane said again. "Help me out, please. I don't know what else I can do for you. I can't even call you by your name and that's driving me crazy!"

It only went downhill from there. Whatever connection she thought she'd established with the foreigner had been lost. Whatever positive reaction she had already gotten, it seemed gone.

The woman suddenly pushed the little boy away from her, her face regretful, but her movements held none of the tenderness the detective had witnessed in the interactions between the lady and the child before. William was instantly flailing his little arms, searching for the comforting touch he'd been denied. Jane awkwardly steadied him as he was slumping into her direction. He shrieked when her hands closed around his upper body in an attempt to keep him upright.

The distressed woman opposite from them blindly searched for the door handle and almost fell out of the car when the door suddenly opened. Jane snug an arm around the now wailing child and pulled open the door on her side, too. She climbed outside almost as clumsily as the other woman, the kid in her arms thrashing so violently that she couldn't find her balance at first.

"What's going on!?" Frost shouted over the radio, and the boy doubled his efforts to squirm out of the detective's grip. Several police officers were already running toward them, waving there flashlights, and shouting questions and orders Jane wasn't able to make out.

She turned William in her arms in order to get him to look at her, but as soon as they came face to face with each other, he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed on the top of his lungs, "RAWRA! RAAAAWRAA!"

Just when she thought she'd leave bruises on his delicate rips by gripping his wriggling form too hard, he got pulled out of her arms and enveloped by two desperately crying parents. She wasn't sure anymore, whether this would be the best approach for the little boy, but in the end she hadn't succeeded in getting through to him either. She decided to concentrate on the other person that had depended on her. Maybe she could help at least one of them.

With a few strides she rounded her car, and found the woman pressed against one of the tires, surrounded by three officers. Her chest was heaving, her face contorted in pain.

"Step back!" the detective yelled at the police men. She crouched down in front of the panic-stricken lady and put a hand on her pulled up knees, initiating contact out of intuition and against her better judgment.

"Breathe!" she commanded firmly, but right then one of the flashlights got pointed at the woman's face and she shied away from it, sheer terror and agony apparent in her features. In an instant the detective became furious, an emotion she actually preferred as a channel for her actions in contrast to the irresolution and fear she had already felt that night.

She swiftly turned and knocked the flashlight out of the officer's hand with so much force that it had him stumble backwards, cursing "Jeezus, Rizzoli!"

"Back the fuck off!" she growled at all of them, before turning back to the woman, whose eyes were still shut and even though she didn't make a sound, the whole image of her was very similar to the one of the little boy. In a strange way the experience of pure panic connected them, let them be the same, irrespective of their age difference.

"If you don't calm down, someone else will take you to the hospital, do you understand? They might even sedate you", the detective explained, but her words showed no effect on the now truly hyperventilating woman. Her already anemic looking face had lost even more of its natural color. For a second her eyes flashed open and Jane felt as if she'd been hit by the intense emotion radiating out of them. And then the woman lost consciousness.

* * *

Detective Jane Rizzoli was standing in a hospital hallway, listening to the screams reverberating along the naked walls, and gazing through a window at the woman they had discovered earlier that night. The light from the hallway barely reached her crouched down from. She was sitting sideways again; had chosen a spot at the far end of the room she got locked into after their arrival at the emergency center.

"Rizzoli!"

She had expected the reprimand any minute now, and already decided to let the tirade wash over her. She was pretty sure she wouldn't make different choices if she'd get the chance to go back to the beginning of the evening.

The voice drew nearer. "Do you have any idea how much I want you off the case right now!?"

She finally turned to face her boss, lieutenant Cavanaugh. "I counted on your assessment of the situation!" he ranted.

"Something set this woman off", Jane explained. "Her reaction when we got to the car couldn't be anticipated."

"The hell it couldn't! That's why we don't go off protocol!"

"Well, I sometimes think it's nonsense to have a protocol for situations like these!" the detective snorted and then she simply pulled open the door and stepped into the room she had been watching, not waiting for an order, permission or approval from her superior.

.

The woman did not acknowledge her presence. She had been stoic since she regained consciousness in the back seat of Jane's car, where the detective had put her down after she had passed out. Jane had been able to guide the weakened woman into a room of the emergency center without any further incident. She had switched off the lights before she had left her to herself, wanting to check on the little boy before she continued her efforts with this woman.

Now Jane squatted down in front of the huddled person. It was a windowless room, the second of its kind in which they met tonight. The unknown woman might have been rescued, but Jane wasn't sure that term truly applied to being placed in yet another small space.

"William is screaming for you. Can't say how much longer 'til he gives into exhaustion. He's been shouting 'bear' over and over again." Detective Rizzoli was not beating around the bush anymore. She needed to know if this woman was capable of helping the little kid that, as they were speaking, was out of his mind at the other end of the hallway. Only because she had established a good relationship with the Johanssons over the course of the last two months, they had agreed no to give him a sedative right away. However, they'd cave in soon. One didn't have to be a mind reader to know that.

The woman winced. At least she hadn't shut down completely.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out that's the safe word you were talking about. Is it supposed to make you help him? Why give it to him when it has no consequences?"

The addressed person only pushed herself closer to the wall.

"I recognized that look on your face before you collapsed. I have no idea why, but you carry a huge amount of guilt."

The woman moved a trembling hand over her eyes, as if she wanted to shield them before Jane could see even more.

"I've also witnessed your reaction when we first entered the basement tonight. You offered your battered back to us, because that's how you protected him all this time. By offering yourself to whatever that man wanted to do to you. And _has_ done to you."

The peaky looking woman gasped for air.

"And in the way you talk to this little boy", the detective continued undeterred, "I could see the connection you built with him."

She was crying again, but spoke up nonetheless. "William rendered possible whatever connection you're describing." A sob wrecked her body. "Poor child. He wouldn't have been taken if it wasn't for me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He- he-" Her breath hitched again and she shook her head slightly. "That man-" But her voice broke.

"Try telling me without talking about him."

"That's impossible", the woman panted and let the hand that had covered her eyes drop to her side again. Her brows were furrowed in concentration. "He's the reason for all of this."

"Good." Jane almost smiled. "It's good that you're aware of that", she amplified when she noticed the confusion in the woman's face.

A single tear made its way down the cheek of the nameless person, as she straightened a little and managed to explain some of the circumstances. "In his state of mind he established this construct of a life he envisioned with me. He thought I'd be happier with him, if he gave me a child."

Jane understood. She made a mental note that rational statements on a more meta-level appeared to come easier to this woman. Maybe she could finally find out more about what had happened to her and where she'd come from.

"Since when have you been held in that house?"

"June 9th."

Jane didn't let on that the reply had shocked her.

"William needs you right now", she went on instead, urgency evident in her tone. "He's not asking, he's yearning for you."

The other woman only shook her head again.

"No, listen to me", Jane pushed. "I get it, alright? I am the first one to blame myself when people I love get hurt."

The shake of the woman's head only became more desperate, more tears were spilling over. "I have no _right_ to love him", she hissed, drawing her arms around her waist in a seemingly unsuccessful attempt to comfort herself.

"But that doesn't matter to the kid right now!" The detective raised her voice. She knew the woman had every reason to fall apart, every right to sink into self-pity. She'd ask the opposite of her anyway. "None of the things you're struggling with make sense to him. All he understands is that the one person he trusted for 58 days has suddenly abandoned him."

"I never wanted that", the woman sobbed softly. "I don't want that", she corrected herself, more resolute.

"Okay. It's okay, I know you don't want to hurt him", Jane said calmly now and the woman nodded automatically in agreement. The detective felt a great urge to express her gratitude. This woman, despite all the still unknown things she had been through, was really trying to work with her here. Her willingness astonished Jane deeply.

After a beat, Jane fingered her radio and told Frost to bring the child over.

"Uhm, Jane", her partner's voice as well as the child's screams sounded over the small speaker before the radio crackled with static for a moment. "I don't think I'll manage." The child sounded absolutely terrified in the background.

"Damn it", Jane muttered under her breath and quickly got up.

"I'm coming with you", the woman interrupted the detective's movements, determination in her voice all of a sudden.

"There'll be a lot of people. His parents, too." She was pretty sure by now that their desperate cry of their son's name back at the house had triggered the woman's response in the first place. It was probably too soon for another confrontation. And if she had learned one thing over the past hour, it was the she'd be a fool to rely on that woman's emotional state, which ultimately kept changing by the minute.

The woman carefully touched Jane's upper arm. It was the first time she initiated contact since they had left the house she'd been held in. Maybe trying was all they got.

.

When Jane opened the doors to the examination room where she had left her partner, William and his parents earlier that night, she held out one of her hands to make a sign for 'stop' and put a finger from her other hand over her lips, beckoning everyone to stay quiet.

She knew she was asking a lot of the Johanssons that night. She had explained to them, that this woman they had found William with was not the enemy, even though she hadn't been beyond doubt herself. One more encounter gone wrong, and she'd lose these people's trust for good.

The woman had her eyes glued to the floor while Jane had hurried her along the hallway. As soon as they had entered the room, though, her gaze snapped into William's direction. Squinting against the invasive lights, she managed to focus solely on him, not on the hostile looks his parents sent her way.

She dropped to her knees next to him, groaning with the effort it took her, and making sure to position herself in a way that she had her back to all the strangers.

The little boy had covered his ears with his tiny hands, his eyes wide open, though. He had bit his lip. The blood was mingling with the tears and spittle that were running down his crimson red, scrunched up face. The second he laid eyes on the person he had shared a prison with for two months, he flung his arms around her neck the way Jane had witnessed a couple of times already.

"Where you been?" he wailed. "Where were you beeeen! You!" he shouted accusingly, pressing himself even closer to the woman. His little body was drenched in sweat, his short hair sticking out in every direction. "I said- I said... but I said-"

"Shhhh", she soothed him. "I know you said it. I know. You did well. And I'm here now."

However, even though William obviously had no energy left from the outburst he had been able to keep going over more than sixty minutes, he couldn't be calmed right away. His little legs simply wouldn't stop moving and he continuously kicked the woman, who was holding him in her lap.

Almost with ease the woman moved his upper body into the crook of her elbow and pinned down his legs against her own torso with her free arm, holding him like a baby. It was an experienced move, and the detective realized the woman already knew by heart which technique would offer relief. They must have done this quite a few times for it to look so naturally. William was still whimpering, forcefully grabbing her shirt, but his breathing had finally slowed.

.

It didn't take more than ten minutes and the exhausted little boy had been fast asleep in the person's arms he felt safe with. No-one had dared to speak, and the detective could tell that the kneeling woman was immensely unsure of what to do next.

Jane moved to the entrance and switched off the lights.

"I'd say, we'd let them rest for tonight", she proposed, glancing at the Johanssons and praying that they would agree, that they wouldn't want anything else from that foreigner holding their son, who had yet to regain one ounce of freedom.

With a longing and regretful look at their son's legs dangling from the woman's grasp, the burdened parents stepped out of the room, escorted by Frost.

"Detective?"

Jane almost missed it. She held on to the door knob and waited, but the woman didn't speak up again. She closed the door, staying on the inside and leaning against it. The whisper that followed was barely distinguishable over the child's breathing.

"Tell me what to do."

"What? No!" Jane almost spat, bewildered. The way this woman went from being decisive to submissive kept freaking her out.

" _Please_ ", the woman whimpered as she dropped her head, her bangs brushing the boy's face. "I- I'm so tired..."

Yet, Jane felt nothing but compassion for her, realizing her feelings weren't single-edged and straight-lined that night either.

She moved toward the people on the floor.

"You feel like lying down?" she finally asked, figuring she could direct the woman without telling her what to do. A nod she had already come accustomed to encouraged her.

"Will you let me help you?" Same nod. Jane carefully slipped her hand under the woman's arm that was holding William's legs. She didn't let herself be irritated when the woman stiffened beneath her fingers, but pulled her to her feet. She didn't let go either until they had moved to one of the hospital beds and the woman had put William down on the covers. His brows were furrowed, even in his sleep.

"Tonight was the first time I didn't react to the safe word", the lady explained unbidden, as she mustered the little boy's face. Jane kept silent, glad the stranger was giving her something to work with.

"I introduced the idea to him, because I hoped it would make him feel somewhat empowered. In addition, I tried to establish it as a word that would trigger my resources whenever I felt too weak to go on. I didn't want h-him to ever touch William..."

"A secret weapon", Jane swallowed painfully. "That was a good thought."

"Not if I don't keep up my end of the bargain. You implied that yourself."

"Only to push you into action. And you _did_ act. Maybe it took you a bit longer than what he is used to. No-one blames you. _He_ doesn't blame you."

"I will have to leave him", the woman whispered then.

"Says who?" the detective replied, pointing to the fact that she shouldn't get ahead of herself. The woman climbed up onto the mattress and carefully came to rest on her side. She brushed her hand through the toddler's sweaty hair.

"We don't belong together." The hurt in her voice told Jane that the woman was even more frightened by the idea that this little boy would leave _her_. She let her eyes sweep over the woman's form, and noticed she looked even smaller and frailer lying down.

"He called you Rawra, right?" The question was meant to remind her of the relationship at hand. Jane received another brisk nod.

"It's fitting in a peculiar way." There was the hint of a smile in the corner of the woman's mouth.

"Tell me your real name", the detective prodded gently, and watched curiously as the woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose.

"You're still you."

The shaky sigh the other woman let out told her she was on the right track.

"No-one can take that away from you."

A new tear slid out from under the woman's eyelid.

"You're safe now. You're safe and not alone."

The woman nodded again. Her features had softened, illuminated only slightly by the light seeping in from the hall. For the first time that night the detective became aware of the fact that the woman was quite beautiful, and must have been stunning before all the horrors she had encountered.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

The woman opened her eyes, finding and holding Jane's gaze.

"My name is Maura."

"Nice to meet you, Maura."

Jane could swear Maura returned the small smile she was giving her.

"Thank you", Maura said after a while.

Jane only shrugged. "What for?"

"Being mindful of switching off the lights for me."

Maura had closed her eyes and missed that Jane was smiling genuinely now. She would be fine.

The detective pulled up a chair. She wasn't leaving.

As soon as the woman's breath had evened out and Jane was sure she had surrendered to sleep, she texted Frost: _Anything you can find on a_ _Maura_ _, gone missing four and a half months ago on June 9th!?_

* * *

 **A/N:** It's undeniable. Your support fueled this chapter, dear readers. I've been writing all day. My back is a mess.


	3. The Room

**A/N:** Thank you for the amazing support. This has been a blast so far.

* * *

Chapter 3: The Room

* * *

William was sound asleep next to her. The first two nights he had been with her, he had wet the bed. She had never been easily repulsed by any kind of human fluids. Still, she had actually marveled about the fact that, when the warm liquid had seeped through her clothes that night and left the mattress they shared with a wet spot they later tried to cover with the sheets, she had felt nothing but compassion for the little boy, who didn't even understand what was happening to him.

He had been wearing diapers when _the man_ had dumped him unceremoniously into her arms. Perhaps _he_ had planned it differently, but the violently thrashing and screaming child must have boycotted any chance of the sweet first encounter _he_ might have imagined.

William had cried himself to sleep that night, but he hadn't fought her. He had never fought her. He had pressed his little face against her chest, soaking it with his tears. And she let him. Admittedly, because she couldn't decide whether it was the right thing to do or not. The child at least seemed perfectly aware of the difference between friend and foe. An ability she envied him for.

After the army cot got wet during the second night, she switched to waking him every other hour to make him use the toilet in the corner of the room. He never wet the bed again. A week later, they could sleep through the night without interruption.

He made sweet little noises when he slept that were deeply comforting. At night they were the only comforting noises around the house, as a matter of fact. Other than that there were the creaking floorboards above them, the sound of scratching, probably from a mouse in the wall, and the steady drip of the broken faucet from the small sink next to the toilet.

When she first had been locked up down here she had barely noticed the dripping sound, but after two weeks had passed it drove her to the edge of insanity. Like a ticking clock it compelled her to count the never-ending _plops_ with which the water drops hit the porcelain and would be lost to the world forever. Just like her. She had started clenching her jaw with the rhythm of it until a cramp lingered there.

At one point she had wrapped the bed sheet around the retaining screw and had tried to pull it tighter. She prided herself on the fact that she had developed most of the skills required to fix things herself around her apartment and on her car, if necessary. Fixing that screw, however, hadn't worked in her favor. Her hand had slipped and she had lacerated her palm on the rough edges of the rusty metal. So she gave up. She couldn't afford to get tetanus on top of everything.

After William arrived the sound never bothered her again. A lot of things changed when he had entered the small space her life was made of these days.

The creaking of the floorboards above their heads caught her attention again. _He_ moved with more urgency now. She jumped when the door suddenly flew open, her heart speeding up and her stomach churning. _He_ almost never came down during the night. The only other time _he_ had done so was when he had brought William to the house. With a few swift movements she pulled the sheets over the boy and positioned herself between him and _the man_ , who had rushed down the stairs.

 _He_ was leering at her, slowly licking his bottom lip, while she felt her own lip starting to tremble.

"Tonight?" _he_ asked, but she was already violently shaking her head. _He_ didn't seem surprised by that anymore.

 _His_ hands went to the buckle of _his_ belt, which _he_ then forcefully pulled open.

.

Maura woke with a start and shot up in bed. The blood rushing in her ears was deafening. By habit she checked William over with her eyes before her breathing had even calmed. Her sight was still blurry, but he appeared to be sleeping just fine.

"You alright?"

The whisper startled her so much that she jumped backwards, bumping into metal and hissing at the pain it sent through her back. The unfamiliarity of the bed finally made her realize that she wasn't in the room anymore. They had been taken to a hospital. And someone must have pushed up the bed rails after she had fallen asleep.

She lifted her eyes again. The detective. She was standing next to the bed. Had she been watching them sleep?

"Do you want me to leave?" the dark haired woman asked, as if responding to Maura's unvoiced question.

She nodded, on guard because of her dream.

"There's a call button, if you need anything", the other woman explained and then left fairly quickly.

Maura didn't know whether it really was for the best.

.

The next time she woke it was because William was tapping her cheek.

"I'm up", he stated as she opened her eyes. They were burning slightly, but her pupils weren't dilated anymore, as usual in the mornings.

"I can see that", she smiled at him, before peering past his little form to examine the room. They were still alone, which made her feel at ease.

"I hear fire trutt", William whispered conspiratorial, as if telling her something very valuable.

"You can hear sirens?" Maura asked back.

"Yeah", he nodded meaningful.

Maura strained her ears, trying to pick up the sound he was talking about. It was a game they had played back at the house. Whoever named a noise first... there hadn't really been a consequence. Talking about the things they heard was simply a pleasure. That was how all the noises had changed when William came to stay with her in the room.

A knock was the next thing to be heard, making them both wince. The door opened silently and the detective reappeared. She was tall and lanky. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders in messy curls. There was something about her that Maura would specify as genuine, even though it could go in many directions; genuinely scared, angry, as well as gentle and warmhearted.

Jane Rizzoli told them that quite a few people wanted to see them and asked whether they were up for it. William apparently didn't feel addressed and occupied himself with smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets, a task he had copied from Maura.

"Maura?"

Her head snapped up at the woman's voice. She felt the onset of confusion again, which happened each time she was asked a question, and had to remind herself that an answer was expected from her nonetheless.

"Who wants to see us?" She felt strengthened by taking the courage to counter with a question instead.

"His parents, a physician, a child psychologist, and another one for..." The detective's voice trailed off, but Maura couldn't tell why.

"For me?" she carefully completed the woman's sentence. She couldn't help it. Unfinished sentences made her feel obligated to finish them in order to help the person who for whatever reason had been prohibited to continue. Yet, she was scared to overstep.

"Only if you wanna see one", the detective spoke quickly and in an instant Maura realized that she didn't. She didn't want to see a psychologist or anyone else for that matter. She glanced down at William, who immediately sensed her attention and gazed up at her expectantly. Were they expecting her to make decisions for him? Or would they separate them, if she refused to see anyone, but wanted him to meet his parents again? Why couldn't they just tell her what was expected of her?

"You know what", the detective spoke again, "let's back up. Start over. Forget what I asked."

Maura looked at the tall woman without turning her head away from William. What was that person talking about? Was she playing games with her?

"What do _you_ want to do today?"

Slowly, Maura turned her head. Maybe there was something in the other woman's features that would help her decipher that question. People rarely said what they meant. She had learned that long before _him_.

"There is no catch." Obviously the detective had also been reading her, much more successfully so.

She was tempted to further test the detective's abilities. Just as slowly as before Maura turned her head again, this time to look over her shoulder. She wondered briefly, if the other woman would think that she was actually searching for the catch, but then told herself that people weren't usually as literal as her.

Her eyes came to rest on the sink that was attached to the wall behind them. Its faucet wasn't dripping, which Maura liked in particular about it.

"Youuu...", the detective drew out, obviously catching on to the game, "wanna clean up first?"

Maura's head whipped around, genuinely surprised that it had worked. When she looked back at the person in front of her the detective was grinning.

"Not to be rude, but you look like you could use it."

At that Maura blushed. Something she hadn't done in 146 days. It draw a small chuckle out of the detective that didn't help the matter.

"You probably only washed with a lick and a promise, huh?"

"Excuse me?" Maura didn't know if she was supposed to feel insulted, or what that woman even was insinuating.

"No, it simply means 'doing a minimum amount of something'", the detective explained, a smile still lingering on her lips.

"Well, it is very hard to properly perform one's ablution with a small-sized sink and a faucet with low water pressure", Maura defended herself, still not catching on.

"It's alright", the other woman finally said in her hoarse voice, but Maura could swear she was biting back another comment. Maura didn't mind. She was having her first real conversations with this woman. It felt like part of her mind was slowly recovering from an anesthetic that had numbed her for several months.

"They are planning to move you to another room upstairs", the detective carried on. "It has a bathroom with a shower and a tub. And it has a window."

That sounded almost too good to be true.

"Could you answer me something honestly first, though?"

There it was, and it didn't come by surprise. She was used to catches. To be asked to be honest, however, unnerved her. She had never been anything but honest.

The detective carried on without waiting for Maura's reply. "Do you need a rape kit?"

Oh. That was why the dark haired woman had put it that way. She was being cautious with her.

"There'd be no trace evidence to be found", she answered, thinking that would put an end to this particular conversation, but was met with a concerned glance from the detective instead. After a moment she realized she hadn't answered the woman's question. At least not the one she apparently truly wanted an answer to.

" _He_ \- _he_ -" She had to take a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. She hated that this kept happening to her. "I wasn't", she simply decided to say, earning an audible exhale from the other woman.

"How about I get you two up there and as soon as you feel presentable you meet up with the Doc and then we'll see from there. What do you say?"

She wanted to say that she felt like she had found the catch after all, even though the detective gave it her best to make it look like a deal instead. She decided not to mind this one.

.

They went all the way up to the seventh floor. William was in her arms again, curiously gazing at each and everything, but especially amazed by the blinking buttons in the elevator.

They didn't meet a single person on their way up. With Maura's knowledge about hospitals she considered that almost impossible and understood that people were behaving and preparing things in a specific way because of them. She was certain they meant well, but it unsettled her to know that a lot was happening behind the scenes without her being included. That was what life had been like at the house, too.

Their new room gave away that they had entered the hospital's wing for private patients. It was equipped with elegant furnishings, a real bed, two armchairs, and a desk. The wall at the far end was one gigantic window. The world outside looked a little gray and dreary, matching some of Maura's inner life.

It was the kind of room she would have chosen, if she would have been given a choice. And if she pretended that the past four and a half months hadn't changed anything. Maura stepped into the adjoining bathroom and examined the door. It couldn't be locked.

"Research indicates that there is a correlation between many types of trauma and suicidal behaviors. Do you take me as suicidal?" She was surprised by her own tone. Something provocative had edged its way into it.

The detective shrugged, not even looking fazed by the way Maura had introduced the topic. "No", she simply said. Maura believed her.

"Would you prefer to lock it?" the other woman inquired.

Maura nodded.

"I can stay out here, if you'd like."

She nodded again. It had already been established as their way to communicate. She let herself be read and offered confirmation for the correct assessments and _guesses_. Had she ever met someone with whom this would have worked before?

"Take all the time you need, okay?" the detective interrupted her thoughts.

And they did.

First, she ran William a bath. He undressed without help, adorably eager to get in the tub. When she lifted him over the rim and into the water, he giggled with happiness.

Maura's heart was filled with warmth at his sight. Yet she found herself contemplating why they, whoever the decision-makers behind the scenes were, would let her do this. Why would they leave her alone with this child? Why would they let her bathe him?

In the beginning of William's time in the basement, she had also asked herself all those questions, until they dissipated and became inane. She wished she could go back to that.

She rose from her position on the ground and moved in front of the mirror, William's chatter comforting her. Her hair was a mess and much darker than she remembered it. It had grown, too. Her eyes were a little red-rimmed and her face had become gaunt.

She turned her back to the mirror and glanced at William in the tub, assessing whether he'd be able to see her in the mirror from his angle. When she diagnosed that he couldn't, she slipped the black shirt over head. It was one of two shirts she'd had. She and William had washed their clothes every other night, using it as a way to pass time and changing into the second pair.

She gazed over her shoulder, curiously inspecting the injuries on her back. It was the first time she got to see the whip marks. The belt buckle had cut open the skin in several spots. Underneath the red streaks she could count her protruding ribs like never before. She had to admit, it looked a lot better than she imagined. The pain had become a constant, the damaged skin tugging and twinging with every movement. She hadn't been able to sleep on her back for months, and had to suppress a yelp whenever William would fling his little arms around her.

"William?" He looked up at her, smiling and completely oblivious to her bare upper body. "Will you be alright when I step into the shower?"

"I be alright", he answered, already refocused on the ship-form his hands had currently taken on.

Maura had no idea whether it would be perceived as irresponsible to let a two-year-old to himself in a tub. She hadn't known a thing about toddlers before she got to know William. Not once had he done anything irresponsible in her presence. Perhaps, she thought, they matched perfectly in their cautious disposition.

She stepped out of her slacks and into the stall. The water was easy to regulate and had a wonderful pressure. She had truly forgotten how good a hot shower felt and even though she was leaning away from the spray in an attempt to not soak her wounded back, it seemed to have the power two completely unwind her nerves and muscles. Soon tears mingled with the water streaming down her face.

Afterward, she put on the scrubs they had laid out for her and helped William with the ones for him, before glancing at the mirror one last time. She looked like someone she used to know.

.

When they emerged from the bathroom, someone had brought them breakfast, and it was smelling incredibly good. William gave a delightful cheer when they discovered the food to be pancakes, blueberries, apples and milk. Maura looked back at the detective, who hadn't left the room, as agreed. She was grinning widely, her eyes trained on William's excited movements. It gave Maura all the reassurance she was looking for. This food was all theirs. Nothing would be asked in return.

She was fighting tears again. Every day of each month, _he_ had brought fries in a bag labeled _Wendy's_. The amount didn't change when William had joined her. She didn't mind letting him eat most of it, though. The smell alone had made her nauseous by the time the child had arrived.

After they ate, Detective Rizzoli announced the doctor, who entered their new room a few moments later. Maura had come to sit on the bed, only because it was the best place for William to scoot close to her. He had his hand on her thigh and she had hers at the small of his back. Maura had kept her eyes glued to the ground at first, but then she noticed that William was mimicking her and decided otherwise. She sat up straight, the little boy next to her raising his chin as well.

They were mindful enough to choose a female physician. She introduced herself as Dr. Odell. The sound of it and her looks brought up abstract memories for Maura from a life she had deemed far away, maybe even long gone.

The doctor took her blood pressure and listened to her heart through the scrubs, before moving on to William to do the same. He let everything happen, just like Maura had.

Dr. Odell then examined Maura's throat and shone a light in each of her eyes.

"Your cornea and conjunctiva are irritated", the doctor remarked.

"I was given Cyclogyl dilating eye drops twice a day over the course of three weeks", Maura explained.

"Why?"

Maura didn't notice that the doctor's question had simply slipped out. She had been asking herself that question since _he_ started administering those drops to her. _He_ had made her sit on the floor and lean her head back against the army cot. She hadn't even flinched when the liquid had met her cornea. She had always complied. _He_ had always had greater leverage than her.

The doctor had moved around the bed to check on Maura's back next, obviously already knowing that there was something to find.

When she lifted the shirt, William instantly covered his ears with his hands and dropped his head into her lap, whimpering slightly. Maura cursed herself for not foreseeing his reaction. Trapped in the same memory brought on by his behavior, she put a hand to his back protectively, but then did something she had never done before in his presence. She pushed her other hand backwards, trying to fend off previous threats the doctor had momentarily become a substitute for.

However, when her palm collided with the other woman's chest, it felt more like she herself took a punch. She slumped forward, covering William with her upper body, and mumbling unintelligible excuses.

She didn't know how much time had passed until the detective's voice got through to her. When she gathered the courage to meet the tall woman's eyes, she also noticed that the doctor had left the room.

"Not in front of him", Maura panted and the detective nodded in agreement.

They decided to give them some time to rest, since William wasn't really willing to lift his head from her thighs anymore and, in fact, fell asleep not long after that. The bath, the food and the doctor had filled him with enough sensations and experiences to process.

Maura moved to lay on her side, her head propped up by an elbow. It had started to rain. The raindrops were huge and the wind was strong, forcing the rain to splatter hard against their room's window.

Maybe she'd had it all wrong. Maybe the droplets didn't get lost, but created something new, simply not in a very obvious way. If only that could remotely apply to her situation.

.

In the late afternoon, Maura agreed to let William's mother and the child psychologist, who only wanted to be present to observe, visit them. Maybe it wasn't fair to William's father, but she definitely felt more at ease around women, although also very self-conscious around William's mom.

"Who's that?" she asked the little boy, and pointed unassertive at the woman who had entered. She had introduced herself as Patty, but kept her distance and William hadn't acknowledge her yet.

"Mommy", William whispered now, an encouraging sparkle in his eyes, but no hint as to whether he had recognized her at all during their encounter the night before. His mother's eyes, however, filled with tears.

William suddenly stood and whispered something everyone could hear in Maura's ear, "Rawra don't tot a phone."

Her heart started to ache. She knew what he was talking about. All the guilt from the previous night came rushing back to her. This woman, this _mother_ , had been denied two months of her child's life. Because her son had been with Maura.

No. She wouldn't let this happen. She had sworn to herself that she would keep it together. She could handle this.

"Tell'em 'bout the phone, Rawra", William mumbled and Maura raised her eyes to the small crowd, all of them gazing back at her expectantly.

"When William was brought to the house", Maura began, addressing Patty and avoiding to say words like 'basement' or 'kidnapped', "he wanted me to call you. I told him I didn't have my phone on me." Maura felt herself blush for the second time that day, but William repeated, "No phone on her", and held out his little hands in a manner that said 'all gone'. The sincerity with which he felt the need to explain those circumstances made her feel very close to him.

They talked about beautifully mundane things after that, the detective and the psychologist pitching in here and there, successfully lightening everyone's mood with their jokes and comments. William visibly relaxed more and more around them, until he started squirming and suddenly whispered something in Maura's ear again.

"He wants to use the toilet", she explained a second later.

"You potty-trained him?" His mother sounded surprised.

Maura didn't know how to respond to that. She understood that the term was connected to using the bathroom, even though it was neither in her nor in William's vocabulary. Despite that, she didn't feel like 'training' was a word that applied to anything she had done with him down in that basement.

"Will you let your mommy take you to the bathroom?" she asked William in a tentative, but serious tone. He didn't even think about it, but slid down from the bed and waved at his mother to accompany him.

While they were gone, there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. The psychologist gave her a look that she deciphered as admiration, but she simply felt far from admirable. The detective on the other hand gave her look of concern, which she couldn't place even more.

Patty's voice startled her out of her thoughts. "I've been meaning to thank you, Dr. Isles, for all that you've done for my son."

Maura felt the blood leave her head. They knew who she was. No. They thought they knew who she was. How could that be?

In an instant her vision got blurry and the wounds on her back were contracting painfully with her rapidly rising and falling chest. Yes, it was rising and falling, which should suggest she was breathing – then why did she feel so dizzy?

"Maura?"

There was a voice, and then a figure stepped into her limited field of view. The person had their hands on their belt.

She had been even wronger than she thought. Her nightmare hadn't ended.

She was going to lose it in front of William after all. No matter what she had told herself, she was not in control.

She was not... she was... going to lose...

...

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, guys. So far this story is being told in baby steps, not even 24 hours have passed for Maura and Jane. Do you have any suggestions for the time line? Should I jump forward at some point? Where do you see the characters headed?


	4. The Ambulance

Chapter 4: The Ambulance

* * *

The psychologist assigned to Maura Isles' case had told them to work with the information that the woman in their care provided and not to try to fit in puzzle pieces they had gathered somewhere else. She told them to move at Ms. Isles' pace and better not to rush the process.

The slip-up from Patty Johansson, William's mother, had proved the doctor right. They were only grazing the surface of what had been done to this woman, with no idea how unstable she was. They didn't want to jeopardize the progress they had already made, and in particular they didn't want to cause either one of the kidnapping victims any more hurt.

Jane had taken a seat next to the bed where they had laid down the unconscious woman. She was breathing evenly now, resting on her side as always. They had spent the first half of the previous night in almost the same positions, before Jane had left the room to spend the second half in the hallway.

Despite the fact that she still had to get a statement from the woman, she had plenty of reasons to go back to the station. Their suspect, Logan Milford, was still on the loose, which should have spurred her into action. Yet she felt obligated to stay. On one hand due to her usual sense of loyalty to the part of her job that didn't solely focus on the perps. On the other hand because of an unfamiliar notion, which she couldn't place for now.

Her young partner, Barry Frost, had found her in the early morning hours, gently shaking her shoulder to rouse her from the uncomfortable position she had slumped into after involuntarily giving in to sleep. He had pulled an all-nighter as well, gathering as many information as possible on the woman they had rescued. Aside from her full name Jane had learned that she was a doctor, an accomplished one too, who had majored in three subjects. Her passport said she was born in Boston, but currently working as a medical consultant at the department of pathology in a private international hospital in Brussels, Belgium.

On June 5th, four days prior to her abduction, she had flown back to the States for the first time in three years – for no apparent reason. How she encountered Logan Milford was still unclear. Frost had called her workplace in Brussels, but hadn't gotten very far, since the receptionist on call only spoke French and seemed to never have heard of a Dr. Maura Isles. He also hadn't succeeded in gleaning the woman's relatives, and had only come across her sealed birth record due to a closed adoption.

All in all, the information he had offered Jane this morning didn't hold anything that would help their investigation, but rather opened more questions. While there had been an amber alert on little William Johansson, nobody had reported Dr. Isles missing, even though she had disappeared off the earth more than four months ago. It created the impression that not only Jane and her team, but no-one else for that matter seemed to know this woman.

When Maura reopened her eyes, she met Jane's gaze right away, a calm and determined look on her face, as if she had collected herself while being unconscious and unleashed a hidden source of strength. Within seconds her eyes wandered down to Jane's hip. Apparently the woman was just as aware as the detective that the belt had brought on a flashback, which was why Jane had removed it shortly after they had helped Maura to lie down.

"William?" she asked hoarsely. Jane had bet on it being her first question.

"He agreed to go with his mother", she explained calmly. "They're at the family room down the hall. We told him you needed some rest." The woman in the bed showed no reaction to the information.

"You passed out again", Jane stated next, edging towards the things they needed to talk about.

Maura nodded, "I think it's a circulatory disturbance due to the malnutrition."

"I think you know it's more than that." Jane knew she was being pushy. She gestured towards her hip, taking note of the other woman's eyes still resting there. "It's a habit I hadn't spent much thought on", she explained, deciding to offer something. "I often rest my hands on my kit belt. I guess I don't like it when they're not occupied. Anyway, you sort of got nervous before you focused on my belt."

Maura nodded again, but didn't join the talk about her flashback, which made Jane sigh in frustration. She knew she was tired, having spent the previous night on alert in a hospital hallway, but more so she was starting to wonder whether she was out of her depth here. The psychologist had not even met Maura Isles, but had made her suggestions solely on the information the detective, the physician Dr. Odell, and the child psychologist, who had witnessed some interaction between William and Maura, had provided.

Jane had always been good at reading people. It wasn't a skill she developed at the police academy, it was something she had needed and made use of during her childhood and youth. She'd never had it particularly bad, at least that was what she told herself. Being a plumber's daughter and the sister of one very shy and one very rebellious little brother as well as not fitting into stereotypical behaviorism Catholic school asked for in girls had called for a certain finesse to get by.

She trusted that skill and she trusted her guts. Recent events had only reassured her that she was right to rely on them. So far she had been glad that the people who were handling this case had trusted her judgment, too. They had made a couple of mistakes, but otherwise stuck to an individualized approach, showing great respect for whatever William's and Maura's unique situation required – an approach Jane highly believed in.

However, there was only so much space and time they could give Maura. She probably possessed information that was crucial to catching Logan Milford as well as for making the charges against him stick, which at some point had to become their priority.

"There are two things I think would be good to get done as long as the kid is occupied", Jane continued.

"Question me and let Dr. Odell attend to my back, I suppose."

It was Jane's time to nod in response, trying to convey something that was encouraging. _Good_ , she thought. The woman was with her on this.

When Dr. Odell entered the hospital room Maura had already sat herself up on the edge of the bed. She had an elegant posture, Jane noticed. The detective admired the way the woman was capable of composing herself time and time again, not only in front of William, but seemingly also for her own sake.

She had slipped her arms out of her shirt and let the doctor roll up the back of it without exposing her front.

"It seems none of the lacerations are infected", Dr. Odell remarked and her patient immediately agreed, "No, they're not."

Jane raised her eyebrows at that and Maura explained, "I examined them in the mirror earlier today."

"Right", Jane confirmed needlessly, wringing her hands. She had remained in front of Maura, trying to prepare herself for any scenario that the medical treatment might evoke. The sight of the woman's injuries was nothing she was eager to see once more, though.

"But they don't look too good either", Dr. Odell observed, already opening a tube of antibiotic ointment she had brought.

"Well", Maura sighed, flinching visibly when the doctor touched her back and obviously willing herself not to be overwhelmed by the action. "They don't require stitches. The severity of the injuries is only due to the high number of lacerations."

Jane couldn't help but snort at that. The other two women in the room chose to ignore her.

"I could give you something for the pain."

"No, thank you", Maura answered politely. "It's bearable."

"Alright", the physician responded. "There are two rather fresh ones, though, that I will attend to now. Please let me know as soon as you want me to stop."

Maura nodded and then closed her eyes. Jane knew the woman was bracing herself for a pain that couldn't be as bad as what it must have been like to being whipped with a leather belt. Yet any burn or twinge would stand as a reminder of this exact kind of physical abuse that had been inflicted upon her.

"How many times did he strike you?" She wasn't even sure she had the right to ask this question and certainly didn't expect an exact count.

"He-" Like every time before the battered woman failed at trying to use words for the man that had tortured her. However, she was able to find a way around it more quickly by now. "It didn't start until day 15, but happened every five days since then. Never more than three strokes."

"Never less either, I bet", Jane interjected, and watched as Maura let her head fall slightly.

"Is this really the best time to ask these questions?" Dr. Odell chimed in, but Maura whispered, "I'm fine." She looked flushed, obviously embarrassed by the caution with which everyone around her was acting. She continued her report before anyone could decide otherwise.

"I believe both digits, the three and the five, are somehow significant to..."

"Him", Jane offered, cringing as if the pronoun was beginning to haunt her too. Not even half a year ago she had actually been in a comparable situation. She knew about personal boogeymen. She knew about emerging from the horrors of a basement.

"It was your way of counting time", she realized.

"78 strokes. 146 days", Maura nodded. "The last ones on the day before yesterday."

"You saw him the night we came?"

"Yes", Maura hissed, as if the 's' gave her an excuse to express the pain she felt under Dr. Odell's gloved fingers. "About an hour before you came. Bringing us food, administering the eye drops and..." This time her voice broke.

"He was in the house an hour before we arrived?"

"That's what I calculated", Maura replied, slightly irritated. "Maybe a little more than an hour, but not more than 15 minutes." Jane frowned, trying to get used to the woman's precise answers. Her voice sometimes held a tone that could be taken as cocky. For someone coming out of a traumatic experience Maura was definitely unusually sure of her conclusions.

"Do you have any idea to where he could have gone during the night?" An explanation to why Milford hadn't been at the house and whether he could have been tipped off was still to be found. Had they really just missed him by a couple of minutes? Or had he even fled the house only seconds before their invasion?

Maura shook her head 'no', causing Jane to sigh.

"How did you meet him?" she asked, trying to be a little more sensitive again.

"I- we didn't _meet_ ", Maura stated, anger evident in her voice. "I was supposed to meet my real estate agent-"

"Logan Milford is working as a-"

"No", Maura interrupted Jane as well. "My agent is a woman and she didn't show up as agreed at the house in question. She had given me the code for the lock and I started to push in the numbers... next thing I knew, I was in that basement."

She closed her eyes again, her knuckles going white from where she was grabbing the edge of the bed. On instinct, the detective took one of the woman's fragile hands into her own, wishing she could ease some tension, or carry some of the baggage with which the woman from that basement had come into their care.

Maura's eyes flew open and she looked at Jane just as surprised as the detective was herself. For months Jane had been exceedingly conscious about her hands, and when recognition flashed over the other woman's face, she instantly remembered why and reflexively withdrew her hands to bury them in her pockets.

The woman on the bed looked regretful, but Jane figured there was nothing she could do about it.

Dr. Odell finished the rest of her task with the room in silence, dressing the wounds as carefully as possible. Only minutes after she let Maura's shirt fall back down, the door swung open and with it a joyful "Rawra!" resounded through the room, the small owner of the voice completely preoccupied and therefore as oblivious to the tension around him as only children can be in a pleasant way.

"Loot what I find!" He jumped on the bed, bumping into Maura's side and wildly waving a small fire truck in front of the woman's face.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hold him back any longer", Patty Johansson excused her son, who was holding toys in his tiny hands for the first time in two months.

"And another one for Rawra!" William continued to shout, easily spreading his excitement. "Just lite we wished. Right, Rawra?" He gazed into Maura's eyes, very intense and full of hope.

"Exactly the way we wished", Maura answered him and took one of the trucks he offered. "How fortunate are we?" She smiled at him in a way that momentarily was reserved for the little boy, Jane realized.

"So forchoonate!" William exclaimed, raising his arms in the air. Maura was looking at him as if she saw the child for the very first time and as if she could never grow old of seeing him. She was checking him over, carefully tracing her fingers along his hairline. Barely notable, the boy lent into her touch. And the detective understood something else. She had been wrong about one thing: there was _one_ person who did know Maura Isles after all.

* * *

It was 7:00 p.m. when Jane, Mrs. Johansson and the psychologist left the room to let Maura and William enjoy their dinner in peace.

William wasn't clingy with his mom. Jane could see that the lack of a reaction from him had hurt Mrs. Johansson when she had told her son she'd leave the hospital for the night. As they stepped out, the child psychologist explained to them that the boy was still living within a reality in which his mother wasn't available whenever he wanted, and that it would probably take a little more time for him to re-learn that this wasn't true anymore.

The psychologist suggested Mrs. Johansson should discuss leaving her phone number next to the land-line in her son's hospital room the next time they met up. That way she could start to change the things that hadn't been alterable for him in a very long time.

They said their good-byes and Jane was starting to think about finding something eatable, when someone whistled and then shouted, "Rizzoli, you need to watch this!"

She hated being whistled at, no matter for what reason. It was that idiot Crowe from Intelligence, who never ceased trying his luck with her. Her partner and her boss had and a couple of other detectives had gathered around the large TV screen at the end of the hall.

"Bad news", Frost mumbled and nodded towards the segment that was playing in front of them.

" _Our source confirmed that the little boy, whose fate we've been following for months, as well as the formerly unknown woman he had been held with have been rushed to Massachusetts General Hospital last night. The woman's identity had remained a mystery until earlier today when we learned that she goes by the name of Maura Isles."_

"What the fuck!?" Jane spat. "What kind of idiot is their fucking source!?"

"We're taking precautions as we speak", Cavanaugh interjected, holding up a hand to stop his detective.

" _If_ Milford is stupid enough to watch the hospital and try anything", Frost explained, "we've got UC cops at all entrances.

"He won't get in without us busting his ass", Crowe added, feeling confident.

"You're willing to use them as bait?" Jane hadn't calmed at all listening to the information they gave her.

"As a matter of fact, we're transferring them tomorrow", Cavanaugh replied, not hiding his annoyance by her accusative tone. "Now everyone go home. Start fresh in the morning." With that he pulled Jane aside, hissing: "You too, Rizzoli."

Jane shrugged out of his grip, pretending she didn't get the insinuation.

"I mean it", Cavanaugh averred. "Ever since you came back on the force you tend to get a little too involved."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She finally met his gaze.

"What made you a good cop before, is putting you at risk now."

"I can handle myself", she grunted, still not willing to jump on the serious-talk he started.

"All I want is for you to follow my orders, detective. If you can't handle _that_ , you'll be off the case in no time." With that he left her in the hall without looking back.

* * *

Jane insisted on riding in the ambulance with William and Maura. They had decided against a normal car, since the ambulance could be backed up all the way to the emergency entrance of the hospital without drawing any suspicion. They didn't know just how obsessed their suspect was with his first kidnapping victim. William probably wasn't as at risk as Maura, but they definitely weren't taking any chances. So far there hadn't been a single sign of Logan Milford, even though a lot of forces were involved in the search by now. Thus the annoying presence of detective Darren Crowe, who was assigned to follow the ambulance in an unmarked police car.

The psychologist had advised them not to tell the patients the real reason for their transfer in order to not upset them any further. And Jane hated that they were taking that kind of chance with the people in their care. She had tried to convince Cavanaugh to go about it differently, but he chose to follow the psychologist's advise. The cover story they made up was that the other hospital would be much closer to the Johansson's home, therefore easier for them to visit.

Jane remembered how Maura had promised the kid that Milford wouldn't find them at the hospital, and she didn't want to scare them either, especially since no-one knew whether he was still around. However, she had witnessed first hand how weary Maura got whenever someone was withholding information around her and was pretty sure that the woman would sense something as well as take it as sign of mistrust that wouldn't help their case.

So when Jane pulled the door of the ambulance close behind her and found Maura and William sitting at the far end of the gurney, the little boy eying her suspiciously and the woman avoiding her gaze altogether, she wasn't surprised. Nothing she said lightened the mood. The ride wasn't supposed to take more than 15 minutes, but that was barely consoling compared to the uncomfortable silence that blanketed the three people in the back. Yet Jane couldn't help but marvel at how William had learned to keep his mouth shut whenever Maura seemed to convey that it was time to do so.

Therefore she also wasn't too surprised when at some point during the ride Maura suddenly whispered "Now, William!" and the child followed right on cue, sliding down from the gurney and crawling under it and out of her sight. When she looked back up to ask the other woman what was going on, Maura was already lunging forward, smashing the detective into the back door, before pulling her back to throw her face first onto the gurney.

That did take her by surprise. Jane felt something sharp press against her cheek as soon as she turned her face to get her bearings. She had been right about this woman. However, she had underestimated her strength as well as the ferocity with which the lady was willing to protect the kid and herself when feeling threatened. Her reaction was blown out of proportion anyway, and Jane briefly wondered whether it had been Milford, who had made Maura doubt the people around her this profoundly, or if something even deeper might have been awakened by her abduction.

The ambulance came to an abrupt halt and Jane winced when the object on her cheek got pressed in deeper with the movement.

"PUT DOWN THE SCALPEL AND STEP AWAY FROM THE DETECTIVE!" The voice of the EMT sounded over the intercom. Maura flinched, but didn't move.

"He can see you on his monitor", Jane explained, trying to stay calm and telling herself that this woman wasn't the enemy. Her racing heart, however, told her otherwise and she felt dangerously lightheaded. Of course Maura would know where to find a scalpel in an ambulance, she was a friggin' doctor after all. Just like _he_ had wanted to be. _No_ , she told herself and let out a low growl. She was not going to go there.

"Look", she started, her voice shaking and not really helping to sound convincing, "you're still safe with us. With me", she emphasized. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, okay? You're being transferred 'cause your location has been disclosed in the news. That's all. I swear-"

She didn't get any further, because the next moment the door got ripped open and the woman, who had been pushing her down, got pulled away forcefully. Jane pushed herself up from the gurney, registering the sound of the scalpel hitting the metallic floor of the ambulance, the yelp from the woman when she got thrown onto the asphalt of the street, as well as William's frantic shrieks as he dashed past her and jumped after Maura.

Before he could launch himself at her, though, Crowe's partner got hold of him, quickly carrying him out of Jane's sight, while Crowe was pushing Maura further down onto the ground, one knee on the small of her back, ignoring her pained cries and getting out his handcuffs.

Jane was too stunned to talk. Within seconds she advanced on the other detective and shoved him off the small woman, who immediately drew up her hands to protect her head for whatever blows she had learned to expect. Jane came to kneel over her, a sob escaping her throat from all the exertion and conflicting emotions. She didn't want to fight. All she wanted was for this woman to feel safe. Even if it was partly due to a projected longing for safety of her own.

"WHAT THE FUCK, RIZZOLI!?" Crowe yelled at her when he got back up.

She tried to ignore him, carefully rolling the woman underneath her over to sit her up and make her feel less vulnerable. Maura's face had drained of all color again, and her eyes were wild and scared. When Crowe stepped closer, Jane instinctively pulled her closer, holding her trembling form in a one-armed hug.

"If you touch her again-", she snarled, but her threat got interrupted by the sound of urgent footsteps and the furious voice of her boss.

"Back away, detective!" he fumed, grabbing her collar when she only shook her head in response. "We're going back to Mass Gen!" he barked his orders, pulling Jane further away from Maura, who was still shielding her head.

"Frost you take Ms. Isles, Rizzoli you go in the ambulance!"

"No, thanks", she bristled. "I'm staying with Frost." She thought it would be clever not to mention she wanted to stay with Maura.

"Damn it, Rizzoli, shut the hell up and get your ass in that ambulance so someone can patch you up!"

At that she frowned and wiped at her face, her hand coming back red. The scalpel's blade must have cut her after all. She hadn't even felt it.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, this chapter was a lot harder to write. This story has initially been meant as a one-shot for a reason... I'm still working on making up the plot, which is also why I asked you guys for input – thankfully a lot of you replied. I'm going on vacation next week, so hopefully I'll have enough time to figure things out. C u in August, dear followers.


End file.
